


Sam lies.

by Petra1999



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Love, Gen, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Jealousy, M/M, Sad, Third Wheel Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:29:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra1999/pseuds/Petra1999
Summary: Sam thinks about Dean, who's on the other side of the wall, in the room next door, with Cas. Thinks "this is okay".It's not okay.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 14





	Sam lies.

Sam lies. Lies on the old box spring mattress that's poking him in the back, cheap bedsheets under his skin and a light blanket thrown over his bare legs. Lies there in the shine of the motel parking lot's streetlights filtered through dull and dusty curtains, lies there listening to the hammering rain outside in Who-knows-where, Oklahoma, after a day of wading through a muddy forest in desperate and ultimately fruitless search of the monster that killed a John Doe not two days ago. A warm shower had cleansed him of the dirt and grime that had been collecting all over his body throughout the day. Now he lies there, squeaky clean, damp hair spread around his head as he stares up to the ceiling and thinks. Thinks about the case at first — why didn't they find the monster, how much longer will they have to stay here — and then about Dean, who's on the other side of the wall, in the room next door, with Cas. Thinks "this is okay".

It's not okay.

You see, that room next door is almost the same as this one. Stained carpeted floor, low cealing, obnoxiously blue partition, beige toilet and sink, complimentary scratch pad on the tiny wooden table. Most importantly, though, it has the same amount of beds: one (king-sized, that is).

Because apparently Dean and Cas like to share now. Because apparently Dean sleeps better with Cas there, doesn't wake up quite as often during the night, has fewer nightmares with Cas by his side.

Dean says — with a smirk on his face and mock poise — that it's because he has an angel watching over him. But Cas isn't an angel anymore, not really. And he snores just as loud as Dean, and is twice as grumpy in the morning, and is increasingly dependent on regular caffeine intake.

In short, he's human, and Dean knows it. And knows that Sam knows it.

It's not like Dean to admit to needing someone (someone human) though, so Sam doesn't pressure him to. So Sam bites his tongue when Dean hands him the key to the single room and proceeds to go off with Cas to the other one.

Shit, it's not like it's new. Or unexpected.

They started in the bunker. Back when Cas struggled with being homeless and they invited him to live with them. Sam's not entirely sure what changed, or rather which change was the catalyst, but something must have shifted one day, and then he found the two men wrapped up around each other on the couch watching Star Trek.

He shut up about it then, didn't make fun of them. Let them have it. He was happy for his brother, happy for Cas to have something.

He didn't expect these feelings to turn bitter after a while.

And yet here he is, jealously writhing inside, and a venomous taste like gall. And he can't sleep, of course. Because his ears pick up every little faint sound that comes from behind the wall.

It's mostly quiet. They've all had a long day, and they all will have to get up early to wrap the case up before anyone else gets hurt. Cas and his brother are probably in bed already, like Sam, lights shut off, maybe tossing and turning like he does. But every now and again pieces of muffled conversation float over. Sam can't make it out, not even a single word, but he recognises Dean's voice, softer, more intimate than he's used to, but unmistakably Dean's. Sometimes a gruff reply from Cas' side.

Sam wonders what they're talking about. If they would mind him hearing, if it's private. He ponders this often. What do his brother and Cas talk about when he's not in the room? Does Dean entrust Cas to secrets he keeps from Sam? They undoubtedly have a connection that Sam doesn't have with either of them, but does this mean that they conceal things from him? Is Sam just standing on the sidelines? A third wheel?

Cas' voice asks a question. There's a creak, a moment passes, and Dean replies, quieter than before. Sam wishes he could bang his fist to the wall and its ugly, yellow wallpaper and shout at them to shut the hell up. But he knows it's not their fault that he hasn't had enough sleep lately. That he's irritated. And jealous.

Jealous of whom? Of what? Damned if he knows. Maybe it's because Dean's always been the one to get all of Castiel's attention. Maybe because Cas stole his brother away from him.

They were supposed to be here together. Sam on one bed, Dean on the other, gun under the pillow, sleeping in dirty bluejeans and rolled-up sleeves and that stupid amulet that Sam loved to see on him so much. It feels like that was a lifetime ago — and it might actually be a decade, almost, since Sam last felt their togetherness as strongly as he did back then.

Now Dean's over there, still a gun under the pillow, but in sweatpants and a Henley, no amulet, Cas on the other side of the bed, and shit— Sam really should be happy for him, should be happy about where their lives are headed, that Dean's alive and safe and not alone, about how much has changed since Dean showed up at Stanford with a smiley and playful façade to hide his worry and his fear.

They're secure now, as secure as hunters can be. As secure as they have ever been.

Why then does Sam move up the bed to get closer to the wall, why does he press his ear up against it, holding his breath so he can hear.

 _"I worry about him, y'know?"_ Dean.

Silence.

_"Just wish he would tell me what's going on."_

Then Cas, _"I'm sure he will open up to you about what's bothering him once he feels ready."_

Sam closes his eyes, frowns.

An affirmative grunt from Dean. Shuffling.

Sam wants to reach through the wall, really be there. It seems like a different world to him, a better one, a world in color. Not as dreary and gray as on Sam's side.

He can swear he can feel their presence next to him. Knows which space they occupy, what their faces look like in the dimness.

He doesn't, though, not really. He's alone. And they are over there.

 _"We should try to get some sleep,"_ Cas says.

_"I've been trying."_

_"Your eyes are open, Dean."_

_"Well, so are yours apparently!"_

A soft chuckle. _"I am not yet used to being human. You on the other hand—"_

 _"Alright, I get it."_ Sam can hear his brother moving around. _"Night, Cas."_

 _"Goodnight, Dean,"_ Cas says. _"I love you."_ The words tug on Sam's heart.

 _"Love you too,"_ comes Dean's faint reply, and Sam drops down onto the mattress again and groans quietly, lifting his arms above his head and balling his hands into fists. He wants to scream.

He didn't get a goodnight from Dean today, just a curt "See ya". He didn't get an "I love you" either, not even the ones he used to share with his brother — nicknames and teasing and hair ruffling and "If you're in the bathroom in the next ten seconds you can shower first."

But it's okay, Sam lies to himself, letting the sound of the thundering rain drown out his thoughts. It's okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Writing gen? Apparently.
> 
> Comments make my day! Sorry if I made you sad


End file.
